Weapon XMas
by TheLetterQ
Summary: Semi-continuation to "Snickers" and "Fantasy Man". Deadpool shows X-23 the meaning of Christmas
1. What to Get A Girl With Claws?

Wade Wilson was sitting on his couch in not but bunny slippers and a pair of candy-cane striped boxer shorts. At his side he had a tin of Piroulines, which he was slowly sucking on one at a time, as if they were expensive cigars. The Star Wars Christmas Special was on just about every channel. He even cast a glance at the project he had been knitting. He was trying to make a sweater, but all he could manage were sleeves. It was depressing. Not to mention it was the first Christmas that Wade would be without his beloved Bea. To make matters worse, the had the song Christmas Shoes running though his head.

"Why couldn't it be a Muppet's Christmas Carol or that house with the lights that flashed in time to Wizards of Winter?" Wade muttered as he flicked through the static-y channels.

The first program to come in clearly was an infomercial for Ginsu Knives. "Makes a great Christmas gift!" the announcer told the at home audience. This made Wade think about that girl, X-23. He wondered how she celebrated Christmas, of if she even did at all. He sucked the rest of his Piruline into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. After a few minutes, he he got to his feet and walked to his bedroom, where he had discarded his gear. Rummaging around, Wade found what he was looking for, his communicator. He hit the button and it crackled to life.

"Weasel? I need a favour."

"Wade? It's 3:30 in the morning."

"Really? Well you should put your bootie pyjamas on and run downstairs with child-like wonder to see what Santa brought you."

"Christmas Eve is tomorrow, Wade."

"I need an address."

"Fine. What do you need?"

"There's this girl I met," Wade began. She was, technically still a girl, she couldn't be more than 16 or 17. "We were flirting, I could really feel a spark between us. Anyway, I managed to stick a tracker on her. Can you home in on it?"

On the other end of the line, Weasel muttered curses under his breath as he stumbled out of bed and to his computers. "Colorado." He answered finally. "I'll give you the address, got a pen?"

Laura Kinney was sitting in her bed, looking out the window at the grey clouds and falling snow. She still did not understand Christmas. Many of her friends and team-mates had left to go home and spend the holidays with their families. Even Wolverine had left, though he was not too clear on why. She was alone, while the others exchanged gifts. She understood gifts, she liked gifts because they meant something. Her necklace, for example, was a treasure. It lay in her lap right now. Two people stared at her from within, her mother was one, and her cousin Megan was the other. She missed them and wondered if they liked Christmas. As she watched as snowflakes fell from the sky and to their deaths she realized that she wasn't sleepy, or excited. She wasn't anything.

Laura was so not anything that she actually did not notice that she was being watched.

"HO HO HOOOOOO!!" Deadpool's head popped into view on the other side of the window, his head crowned with a Santa hat. "MEEEEEEEEEERRY CHRISTMAS!!"

Laura tilted her head an narrowed her eyes.

"You gonna let Saint Deadpool in? Or are the reindeer gonna freeze?"

Laura got off the bed and walked to the window. She stared at Deadpool skeptical and inconspicuously sniffed him. Even through the glass she could smell him, the smells of gun oil and wounds and the elevated heart-rate that came with constantly healing one's self. He didn't smell suspicious.

She unlatched the window and opened it. Snow flakes blew into the room in wild swirls and nested into her dark hair as Deadpool climbed into the room. Without a shiver, Laura closed and locked the window. She turned to Deadpool questioningly. "Why are you here? What do you want?"

"You remember me huh?" Deadpool grinned behind his mask. He pulled the Santa hat off his head and then plopped it onto Laura's head. "I'm here to wish you a merry Christmas!"

Laura stood stiffly, paranoid, as the hat touched her head. After she realize it was not going to hurt her, she relaxed somewhat, but was still on guard. "Why?"

"Because we Weapon X flunkies need to stick together." He said as he swung his pack off his shoulder and onto the bed. The bag hit the television remote and the t.v. clicked to it's bright life. The face of Edward Scissorhands filled the 60 inch high-def flat screen. The blond girl was asking him to hold her. He said he couldn't.

"Oh man I love this movie!" Deadpool said, elatedly jumping onto the bed, only to sit down on it and stare, enraptured, at the screen. "It's the perfect holiday film! Along with Gremlins."

Laura's gaze shifted between the t.v. and her guest, then back, then back again. Deadpool patted the spot next to him as an invitation to sit. She did, pulling her legs up to her chest, the bottom of her feet on the wooden foot of the bed. The pressure made her foot claws protrude just a little. Finally, she settled into watching the film.

"Is he an experiment?" She asked.

"An invention." Deadpool clarified. "His creator loved him. Like a dad. Wonder what that's like."

Laura did not answer, she guessed that Deadpool didn't have people who tried to care for him, unlike she had with her sensei, and her mother Sara.

"I had a mother, once." Laura said in a solemn voice. "She created me. Her name was Sara Kinney. She named me Laura. She never told me about Christmas. I didn't know about it until after I had left the Facility."

Deadpool looked at Laura as she spoke, ignoring the movie. Usually he would have some witty quip or acerbic reference to one's mother but not this time. This time, for once, he listened.

"We didn't celebrate Christmas at the school, either. There was too much mourning going on, with the Purifiers."

"So, this is your first Christmas." Deadpool said. Laura nodded. "And here you are spending it with another living weapon."

Laura looked at him, her dark hair falling around her shoulders in spider-webby threads. "You said we weapons have to stick together."

"I did?"

Laura nodded.

"Oh, I did, right! RIGHT!" Deadpool jumped to his feet, having suddenly remembered something. He searched through his bag, and pulled out a wrapped present. "Here! Merry Christmas. Saint Deadpool brought you something!" He held out the present to the girl. Laura read the tag, which said "for X-23". She was about to take the gift when Deadpool whisked it just out of the reach of her fingertips.

"WAIT! This is all wrong! You said your name was Laura?" He asked, and she nodded.

"Laura Kinney."

Deadpool pulled a bowie knife from his belt and ran the blade over the card, effectively scratching out 'X-23'. He then began to carve with the knife into the wrapping. When he was satisfide, he tucked the knife into it's sheath at his hip and once again held the gift out to the young woman. "Here!"

Laura managed to get a hold on the package this time. The wrapping, which was once covered with reindeer that were once cheerful, but now just looked slaughtered was sliced and ruined, because he had carved into it "For: Laura".

Laura felt a warmth creep under her skin as she read the words carved into the paper, and a thrill at the thought of opening the present, of unwrapping it to solve the great mystery of what's inside, and knowing that whatever was inside was for her, Laura. Her fingers curled over a cut and tore into the paper. Effortlessly she dropped the paper at her feet and uncovered a plain white box. She glanced at Deadpool, who gestured giddily for her to continue. She opened the box and found....

....arm warmers. They were knitted with pink yarn, and looked very soft. They even had little slits, like button holes, where her claws could pop out of, undisturbed. Laura was without words.

"I knit them myself!" Deadpool said proudly, like a child giving it's parent a macaroni ornament.

She looked up at him, and he looked so happy, so self-fulfilled. Such as it was, it somewhat softened her heart. She smiled at him. "You really made them yourself? For me?"

Deadpool suddenly seemed a little shy. "Well...yeah..."

She scooped the arm warmers from the box and slipped them on. They were comfortable, and feminine, which if Laura really thought about how Deadpool made pink girly arm warmers, she might have to worry a little. She moved her hands around, admiring the gift at different angles. She tested them out by extending her claws, which sliced nicely from the holes, leaving the rest of the garment unharmed. She regarded him. "I don't have anything for you." She told him bluntly, but there was an apologetic tone to her voice.

"Don't worry about it. I crashed the party uninvited."

"Thank you." Laura said in all sincerity. "If you wait a few days and then come back, I will get you something in return."

"Aww, that's sweet kid, but you don't have to."

"I do. You gave me a Christmas. I should give you one too. Come back tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow." Deadpool pointed out.

"Later tomorrow."

Deadpool shrugged. "If you insist." He gathered up his bag and opened the window. "I'll be here with Christmas bells on."

Laura did not understand that expression. "Wait. What is your name?"

Deadpool straddled the window sill and looked at her. "Oh, it's Wade. Wade Wilson. Later."

"Merry Christmas Wade." Laura said, as he disappointed behind the curtain of falling snow.

Tune in next time, where Laura tries to shop for a gift for Wade!


	2. This Time It's Personal

Laura Kinney hated crowds. They were too busy, too noisy. Crowds nearly overwhelmed her senses and made her quick to anger. But she was on a mission.

The little white pom-pon on the end of her Santa hat bounced against the back of her head as she weaved through the rushed last minute shoppers. At least her hands were warm. She curled her hands into fists to feel the soft yarn of her arm warmers. Her first Christmas gift. She was determined to return the favour. The only problem was that she had no idea what Dead-...Wade...liked.

Laura knew he liked weapons. Guns, knives, grenades, but that didn't seem appropriate somehow. Actually, perhaps it was entirely too appropriate. Instruments of survival were practical in their mutual line of work. Laura was not a creature of great imagination, so it was only natural when she entered The House of Knives.

Wordlessly, she looked around. She stared at the words on display. They were all rather fantastical and showy. She did not know they were replicas from popular fantasy movies, but she did know they looked weak and useless. Wade would probably break one trying to cut his toenails.

The knives and daggers did not fare much better in her eyes. Many of them proudly boasted that they were made in China. After a good stab to someone's spine, they'd be broken beyond all repair. She walked a lap around the floor of the shop and left the store, unimpressed.

Laura had found herself inside the Mall. It was brightly lit with multi-coloured holiday lights strung up everywhere. A huge tree stood in the centre of the mall, empty presents nested underneath it. In his throne, a fake Santa Clause was being told by over-sugared children what they wanted for Christmas. She walked past it all.

There was so much noise! Crying children, shouting children, and everyone smelled sweaty under their winter coats. Occasionally other shoppers would bump into her as they hurried past in an effort to get that one last gift. Laura re-adjusted her hat, then grimaced as a child began screaming.

"But mommy I'm tiired! I wanna go home!" the little girl wailed.

"Stop crying. We still have to get something for that deadbeat father of yours." Mom snapped.

"I don't wanna! I wanna go and watch Rudolph!" She stomped her foot.

Laura watched as Mom rubbed her forehead. The woman was frayed at the ends and Laura could smell the alcohol on her breath even at a distance. Her daughter continued to holler for Rudolph. She tried to grab her mother's hand but missed, and grabbed instead one of the many shopping bags in her mother's hand. The little girl pulled, and the bag ripped. From inside tumbled out all of the presents from that bag. Shoes, shirts, a carton of cigarettes, a tin of cigars, boxes of chocolate and other assorted items. By now, the girl was crying and Mother just stood there, feeling embarrassed. She dropped the bag and grabbed her daughter's arm. Pulling the little girl close, she raised her hand.

Laura caught Mother's arm and held it a little tighter than necessary to get her point across. The two woman stared at each other, Laura's unwavering gaze boring into Mother's shivering eyes.

"Don't." Laura said. She could feel Mother tremble. "Let her rest. She's tired." With a final squeeze, Laura released her hold on Mother and backed off. She did not take her eyes off Mother until she felt a little tug on her coat. Laura looked down to see the little girl holding out her Santa hat.

"You dropped this."

At first Laura did not reply. She took her hat and put it snugly on the little girl's head. "You can keep it." Laura told her without mirth, but at least she had good intentions.

"Thank you, lady!" The little girl said as Laura walked away and once again began browsing shops.

___________________

Laura walked into her room and discarded her bag onto her bed. Her hair was wet with snow and she was cold, but it was nothing worth bothering with. She went to her dresser and pulled out some dry clothes. She just pulled on a fresh pair of black cut off jeans when the door bell rang. This caused her momentary confusion. Wade didn't seem like the front door type. She hurried down the stairs and to the front door. She opened it a crack and saw it was indeed Wade, in full on Deadpool gear. She opened the door the rest of the way, wordlessly. Wade slipped in and shut the door behind him.

"Well, I'm here." Wade announced.

"I know." answered Laura without looking back. "Come into the kitchen."

The pair walked into the kitchen and Laura went to the fridge. She pulled out some milk, and then retrieved a small saucepan from a cupboard. She poured the milk into the saucepan and turned on the burner.

"Ohhh! What are we cooking?" Wade asked.

"There was an ad in the mall." She told him in her emotionless voice. "It said that hot chocolate was the perfect Christmas treat. So I got some."

"The power of persuasion." Wade joked.

Laura turned away from the stove to look at her company. The two stood there in awkward silence.

"Ssssoooooo....I see you're wearing your gift."

"Yes. They kept me warm in the snow."

"Good. Good."

The awkward silence resumed.

"I saw a mother who was going to hit her child today. I stopped it."

"T'is the season."

Once again, the awkward silence made an appearance.

Laura turned away and busied herself with getting mugs for the drinks, and filling them with hot chocolate mix. "Sit down."

Wade sat. On the kitchen table.

"I've decided that I don't like Christmas shopping." Laura announced. "There are too many people."

"The staying at home part is the best. Um, Laura?"

"Yes?" Laura looked at Wade, who was pointing to the stove. The milk had boiled over and the foaming bubbles were now spilling onto the stove top. Laura hurried to pull the pan from the burner. The burnt milk splashed about as she dropped the pan into the sink. The bottom of it was crispy with blackened milk. As Laura stared into the sink, she gripped the lip of the counter. Her claws popped out.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Wade jumped the counter and put a hand on her head. "Calm down there, kid. There's more cows where that came from." He looked around, and spied a coffee maker. "AHA!"  
He grabbed more milk from the fridge and opened the little door where one would typically pour water into the maker. But Wade was far from typical and instead he poured in the milk. He put an empty filter in and turned it on. The two watched and waited through some distressing noises from the maker before warm milk began to drip into the carafe. "Within moments we should have hot milk for our chocolaty treats!"

Laura hooked some hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, not everyone can cook. Which is why I did this."

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Wade bounded to the door and opened it. "Your late. It's free." He told the person on the other side of the door. Then he pulled out a gun. "I said you're late. And it's free. Capiche? Good!" He re-holstered the gun and shut the door.

Laura could smell the scent of hot Chinese food.

"Chinese! Better than turkey. Unless it's a TurDuckEn. Those are neat."

Laura fetched some plates and serving utensils. She laid them out on the table while Wade un-packed the food.

"Aaaaallllright! We have sweet and sour soup, Chicken Chow mien, shrimp fried rice, Honey garlic spare ribs, almond chicken, egg rolls and of course-" He held out his hand and in his palm were two folded pieces of hard dough shells. "Fortune cookies!"

She studied the fortune cookies and then selected one. Her arm warmers made her fingers look especially tiny and delicate.

"We open it after we eat." Wade explained.

Laura nodded and put her cookie by her plate. "I will get the hot chocolate."

Laura hadn't considered how Wade was going to eat with that mask, so when he pulled it up halfway she was taken aback. The scars and deformities were impossible to ignore. She walked slowly, carefully, as she placed his mug before him. Her proximity allowed for her to get a better view of his lower face. She couldn't think of anything to say, instead, she avoided looking at him as she sat down.

"I wondered why you wore your mask." She announced, looking down into her hot chocolate. "...They did that to you, didn't they?"

"Huh?" Wade paused, frozen within the process of scooping chow mien onto his plate. "Oh. Uh. They were jealous of my boyish good looks." He answered, licking sauce of the thumb of his gloved hand. "I mean, I was like Adonis! That's a character on Melrose Place, right? Soy sauce?"

The questions bubbled up from Laura's belly and crowded upon one another at the back of her teeth. However, all that came out was "Please."

The moment had passed, their time with Facilities and as as experiments had passed as well, and Laura thought no more of her questions. After all, they were sitting down to a well appreciated, but unconventional Christmas dinner.

"Open yours! Open it open it open it!" Wade chanted as Laura cracked open her fortune cookie. "What does it say?"

Laura smoothed out the paper and read it. "It says 'everyone you meet is a friend'. I think I got the wrong one." She discarded the fortune and began to munch the shards of cookie while Wade smashed his open with his fist. He fished out the paper and read it.

"'Your future is filled with opportunities'. Hmph. Vague." Wade shrugged and tossed the paper onto the table. He leaned back in his chair, and stretched an after dinner stretch. He laced his fingers together and rested his palms on the back of his head.

Laura searched her mind to think of a conversation topic. "What was Christmas like when you were a child?"

"Well," Wade thought back. "I had sugarplums dance in my head. But that's nothing a jackhammer and some Draino couldn't take care of. One time Santa brought me a puppy. I name him Scooter. Scooter liked to sleep behind dad's pick-up truck. That New Years dad's resolution was to change the tires. Blood and fur don't give good traction."

Wade continued to talk on and on about whatever was on his mind. And Laura listened. When Wade spoke to anyone else, it was like a constant, irritating buzz, but Laura actually took the time to listen to his words, even though sometimes she could not recall how point A got to point B. Maybe that was all Wade needed, for someone to listen.

"And that's how I used H2SO4 to cure his hiccups! Whoa, it's 3am." Wade looked again at his wrist-watch. "It's 3am! Laura, it's three!" He jumped up out of his chair. "You know what this means, right?!"

"What is it?"

"It's Christmas morning! I get my present now! Gimme!" He reached out expectingly to Laura, with wiggling and eager fingers. "Gimme gimme gimme gimme gimme!"

"Oh. It's upstairs. Wait here." Laura got up and pushed her chair in, before disappearing upstairs, a chorus of "gimme gimme gimme gimme!" echoing through the halls. Laura peeked into the shopping bag, regretting the fact she never had time to wrap it. She paused, then grabbed the bag off her bed. She paused again while a sensation crept into her chest. What if he did not like his gift? Why did she care either way?

Because her arms were snug from the warmers. That was why. Laura almost smiled, and then went back downstairs.

Laura found Wade back by the kitchen counter, hopping from one foot to the other in excitement. She held the bag out to him. "Merry Christmas."

"oh boy oh boy oh boy!" Wade opened the bag and dunked his hand into it's mysterious, cavernous innards, pulling out the prize. What he held in his hand was a thick, leather bound book. The front of it said "Mary Shelly's Frankenstein". Wade blinked.

An awkward silence fell between them for what seemed like the zillionth time that night.

"Doctor Sara Kinney, my mother, used read me Pinnochio while I was in the Facility. I think she felt I could be a ...real child. With the same mind-set I found that novel. They pretend to be gods and then don't take responsibility for us. It was...familiar."

Wade tried to think of something to say. "Insightful." he finally said. "Thanks!"

Laura frowned. "You...don't like it?"

"No, no! I do, I do! It's just... you're brain is creeeeeeepy!" He emphasized it by massaging her scalp with his fingertips. "It was thoughtful. Last time I got a Christmas gift it was from Nathan. It was socks. I was sad. This is much better! Anyway, I better be going. Weasel gets uppity if I don't report in every few days."

"Oh. Alright." Laura responded, but Wade was already opening the door. She hurried over to him. "Wade. Happy...holidays."

From behind his mask, Wade smiled at her. "You too, doll. Let's do this again sometime. Say, New Years. We can get Slushed and do things we'll regret the day after. See ya!" The door shut, and he was gone.

Once Wade had got to the street, he let himself release the chilling shiver that had nested at the base of his spine. He looked at the book and ran a gloved hand over the embossed letters. What did he say? Insightful? Stupid.

Frankenstein. it was horrifically apt. But Wade had to smile, at least the little Pinocchio was on her way to being a real girl. Maybe that meant there was hope for Franky after all.


End file.
